Xander's Fight
by OldSmoke
Summary: Xander is compelled to distance himself from his friends after being turned into a mysterious form of Vampire. Ch. 3 up. Xander is ambushed first by the Mayor, then by a certain brooding Vampire who's got a bone to pick with him...
1. The Case Against Xander

_Disclaimer: Buffy and friends belong to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. Not me._

_Timeline: Season 3, before Faith's introduction. Oh, and Xander and Cordelia didn't get back together after Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered._

"Xander Harris," Mayor Wilkens muttered in disgust.. "Alexander LaVille fucking Harris."

He again scanned over the dossier detailing everything that made Xander who he was: His race, blood type, religion, ancestry, nationality, marital status (single), income level, likes & dislikes, height, weight, taste in movies & music and political affiliation.

"What I don't understand," the Mayor mused to his empty office, "is what this boy is doing in the Slayer's little clique. Rosenburg's into the whole 'magic powers' thing, Angel's a good fighter and a vampire to boot, Oz is a goddamn _Werewolf_ and Xander is…what, aside from being your average Suburban McWhitey? He's just a regular guy without a gimmick. You see, you have something that sets you apart from the rest of the crowd these days. Take the rap world for example. Dr. Dre is a physician, Fifty Cent's been shot a lot, Snoop Dogg actually looks a bit like a dog and Insane Clown Posse says the world will end after their fifth- or was it the sixth- album will be released.. Now, one could claim that, following a superficial appraisal, that Eminem is just a regular guy, and is thus a dues-paying member of the Regular Joe Society our friend Xander likewise belongs to. However, Eminem is unique in that he as a Caucasian has achieved success in a music field that is predominantly African-American. To again use the industry of the rap industry, Xander is the equilivant of yet anther wannabe bad boy singing songs of bitches and bling-bling set to stale-ass beats."

Mayor Wilkens picked up the remote control and pushed one of its many buttons. The wooden cabinet opposite his desk swung aside to reveal a row of television monitors. Another button was pressed and screens lit up and began playing the footage. One after the other they began displaying black-and-white footage of the Sunnydale High school library. A team of technicians had edited the footage to show all the meetings of the Slayer and her allies the last few months. Mayor Wilkens watched, nodding as again and again he noted Xander's behaviour: sitting around and cracking stupid (and unfunny) jokes while Buffy, Giles, Willow, Oz, occasionally Angel planned strategy and researched whatever monster of the week was threatening Sunnydale. Hell, even Cordelia was a bigger help than Xander, the Mayor noticed- and that was saying a lot.

"I thus conclude," Mayor Wilkins said as he flicked of the screens, "that Xander is very much the fifth wheel to the Scoobies' Mystery Machine and constitutes a drain on their time and resources by contributing little or nothing to their team effort. While I may be better served by letting him live and thereby hampering their efficiency, by having him killed I:

A) Rid myself of an enemy- always a good thing regardless of their competency and

B) Send a message to the Slayer and her friends. Namely: Fuck off and don't interfere with my ascension." He pushed the desk's intercom button. Mr. Trick's voice came out from a nearby speaker shortly after.

"What can for you, sir?"

"Has our guest arrived?"

There was a pause. Naturally. Plague vampires weren't well liked by their brethren.

"He should be arriving at the airport shortly, sir."

"Good. I want you to meet him there." The Mayor could feel Trick cringing. "You are to provide him with the material I gave you: Pictures, maps of routes, files. the whole shebang." The mayor turned of the intercom and went over to his personal wine cabinet. He poured himself a glass, sat down and raised a glass in a solitary toast.

"Xander Harris, we hardly knew ye…"

&$#

"Found it," Willow said triumphantly as she jogged back to the gang, ancient textbook in hand. "Listen to this: The Belkor are a tribe of demons older than recorded history who have managed to survive to the present day. In order to sustain their bodies, they steal the life energy from young humans and take on their appearance and attempt to live out their victim's life."

"That would explain why so many students have been behaving strangely lately," Giles observed.

"Does it say how to identify a Belkor in it's human form?," Buffy asked.

"You could always try checking for dentures and cynical mutterings about 'the good old days'," Xander wisecracked. Willow rolled her eyes and Giles groaned. Buffy's left eye began to twitch.

"Er, moving on, what does the rest of the text say, Willow?" Giles asked.

"It says Belkors in human form often tend to congregate with others similar to themselves," the red-haired witch read.

"'Others similar to themselves'? Could that sentence be any more vague? It could refer to almost anything" Giles said.

"We could always check the local old-folks home," Xander suggested . That did it.

"Ok, raise your hand if you've had all the Xander Harris you can take for one day," Buffy said through clenched teeth. She and Willow immediately did, followed by an embarrassed-looking Giles. Xander suddenly wished he'd kept quiet.

"Buffy, look, I'm sorry, ok? You don't need-"

"No, I'm sorry Xander…for putting up with you all day. The grownups are working and you are _getting in their way._ Just…go home, Xander. We'll figure what to do with you later." Xander looked to his other friends.

"Giles? Willow? A little support here? Tell her I'm sorry, ok? Let's go back to like it was before."

"Only that's what we're trying to get away from," Buffy commented.

"_What_?"

"Sorry Xander," Willow said slowly, taking care to choose the best words. "But we've go to stop these demons and having you around…isn't really the best way to doing that."

"I'm sorry Xander but she does have a point. Indeed, I've noticed that our meetings are substantially more productive when you're not around," Giles said casually, taking off his glasses and rubbing them with a cloth. Xander felt a dark anger building within him. They'd meetings without telling him? Then that meant…

"There's been meetings without me? That you've never tell me about?" Willow and Giles nodded. Xander's fist clenched. "Do any of you understand what that says to me?" He asked.

" News flash, Mr. Zeppo: The world doesn't revolve around you," Buffy said. "Now," she thrust a single fingernail towards the library entrance, her face twisted in a mean snarl not unlike that of a witch Halloween mask. "Out," she hissed.

&$#

Having been late afternoon when Xander joined the meeting, night had fallen y the time he left the school, Homeward bound. No one was around, not a car in the streets. Streetlights cast pale yellow haloes on the sidewalks Xander was using. He couldn't believe how long it had taken for the scales to fall from his eyes and realize how secondary he was to the Slayer and her friends. _Her _friends. Willow and he had been inseperable once but now…

"Goddamn Buffy…fills Willow's head with lies and bullshit…turns her against me…,"Xander cursed, kicking a pebble across the street. Was this the end of him and Buffy? Not romantically, of course. Angel had seen to that. _Goddamn dead boy. He and I will settle our account someday. Count on it,_ Xander vowed mentally.

Buffy had said they'd 'figure out what to do with him.' What did that mean, anyway?

"Guess that's how it goes for those of us not lucky enough to have superpowers."

"Excuse me," a voice said from behind him. It belonged to a dark, well-dressed gentleman in a black suit whose yellow eyes surveyed Xander hungrily. His figure was tall and thin. His posture suggested grace, power and charm: a deadly combination

"Are you Xander Harris?"

"Yeah."

"Splendid." The mysterious stranger's right arm shot out and punched Xander in the face. The teen stumbled backwards, having been caught off guard by the blow.

"Mayor Wilkins sends his regards," the stranger said as he removed his top hat to reveal a vampire's game face. Xander pulled out a stake, to which the vampire kicked out of his hand with a spinning karate kick.

"Ha! What were you gonna do with that? Stake me like your Slayer pal Buffy?" The vampire drove a right hook into Xander's stomach, forcing him to double over in pain. The vampire shoved him up against a nearby chain-link fence, grabbed his hair and began rubbing Xander's face up against the rough metal. He tried freeing himself by flailing his arms, only to accomplish little save for cutting open his right palm on the points at the fence top. The vampire pulled him away from the fence, kicked Xander in the back of the knee, forcing him to kneel. The vampire pushed Xander's head into the crook of his left elbow, chocking the boy in a headlock with the strength of an iron vise. Xander began chocking for breath, his face turning red and then blue.

"Look at how pathetic you are Harris! You're the Slayer's friend, and where has it gotten you? About die at the hands of a vampire, that's where!You depend on her for your safety, doyou not?And look what rich dividends you've reaped! Where's your Slayer now, bitch?

Xander slowly got to his feet and managed to throw the vampire behind him over his shoulders in a feat that surprised even him. Shoving the vampire away he made a dash to wear the stake lay- only to have the vampire's boot smash on the hand just before he could grasp it. Xander screamed in pain.

"Weakling! I detest creatures like you who depend on others not just for their survival but on how to live their lives. Come on, Xander! I don't understand why you object to being killed. It's not your life your living- it's how Buffy wants you to live. What do you have to show for it? Absolutely nothing! Are you familiar with English philosopher Jeremy Bentham's concept of Utilitarianism, Xander? According to him, our actions should be judged as 'right or 'wrong' according to the one that causes the greatest amount of happiness to the greatest number of people. The way you've been living gave a sort of platonic happiness to Buffy (Well, until recently anyway) but it left none for yourself. Your life could have been much better had you been willing to stand for your own principals, Harris. While your actions may have given you personal happiness but less for Buffy, as you had been less willing to do as she told you . However, having looked over your history and personal history, I do not believe that Buffy's happiness is linked to your actions as she has someone who cares for her personally- Angel while you unfortunately have no such equilivant," The vampire taunted him before drawing his boot back and smashing Xander in the face with it.

Xander shook off the pain and stabbed at the vampire with the stake. He missed and dealt only a glancing blow that cut rather than stabbed. Black blood spurted out of the wound, covering Xander in it.

"I thought Vampires didn't bleed," said a shocked Xander.

"Then you've never fought a Plague vampire before," it answered. "But enough lectures. Feeding time." It bared its fangs. It ran toward him, intending to tackle him to the ground and where his superior strength gave him the advantage. Xander held his arms in front of him to prepare for the vampire's impact-

It never came. Xander opened his eyes and saw a cloud of dust settling on the ground before him. He remember that he'd been holding the stake point away from him. The vampire had actually rammed itself into the point.

Covered in bruises, cuts and vampire blood, Xander began trudging home. He didn't know how he'd made it. Soon after leaving he began feeling dizzy. His vision blurred, and the stars seemed to grow bright in the night sky. Fumbling with the keys, he let himself into his basement only to collapse on the floor in a delirious internal storm of icy hot pain. The last words in his mind before losing consciousness: _Buffy...happiness...bullshit..._


	2. Better Off Alone

The darkness lifted from Xander's eyes. Gingerly propping himself on one elbow, he looked about his dark basement bedroom and blinked. A steady diet of Hollywood films and comic books told him that people who'd passed out usually felt disoriented and sporting a hangover-worthy headache. Xander was feeling anything but. On the contrary. He felt a great deal more vigorous and energetic than he had felt in a long while. Xander picked himself up from the floor and sat on the bed. What a shame he couldn't say the same for how he felt on the inside.

What had happened yesterday? Had more than two years of friendship and goodwill between him and the Scoobies really been dissolved in a single day? Why? Because Buffy lost her temper over one of his stupid jokes? He made those all the time. What was different about yesterday? Xander sighed and laid back on his bed to stare at the ceiling. The way he saw it, there were two rationales for yesterday's falling out: The first was Buffy et al had been badly stressed and his wisecrack's timing had been particularly unlucky. People said nasty things they didn't mean all in the heat of an argument. Was that the case here? Xander hoped so. He knew what to do. He'd give everyone some time to blow off some steam, later exchange apologies with the gang and everything would be fine, back to the way it had been.

That was certainly the most optimistic possibility, but was it the most realistic? The other, more troubling explanation was that a certain resentment had driven a rift between him and the rest of the gang. Why? His contributions, or lack thereof, to the group most likely. True, he did what he could to help out the research effort...but so did Cordelia. Besides, how else could you explain Willow giving him (albeit shyly) the cold shoulder yesterday? It wasn't fair to Buffy to blame her for Willow turning against him, which was exactly what he had done yesterday leaving the library. No, the origin of the rift in his and Willow's relationship was more complex than that. Something must have changed in one of them over the years to cause Willow to identify more with the Scoobies instead of with him. But what? Xander didn't know. It was all so complicated, too complicated for one so humble as the Zeppo.

Come to think about it, Xander noticed, each member of the team brought some unique talent to the table: Buffy, of course, was the Slayer, Giles had his knowledge as a Watcher, Oz was a Werewolf, Willow was skilled in computer hacking had begun dabbling in magic...and Xander? What was his contribution? Bringing donuts and cracking jokes, a role that turned out nobody appreciated...not that there was much to appreciate in such a role. Hell, Giles might have well hired a stand-up comic and worked out a wholesale deal with the local Krispy Kreme. Why didn't he? Probably because Xander didn't charge.

Well, suppose he and the gang were through. What did it mean for him? After all, he had no obligation to help out the Slayer, it was something he did out of friendship...right?

Right?

_Xander? Did I ever thank you...for saving my life?_

_No._

_Don't you wish I would?_

Xander sighed. He'd tried so hard to push his dreams aside, not wanting to know of them, how distant they were yet also right in front of his face. No, enough. Thinking about_that_ wouldn't accomplish anything.

Giles had said the meetings without him had been more productive and Buffy said they'd decide what to "do with him," later. made his chances being let back into the gang...unlikely, if nothing else. Xander wanted clarification most of all. What was it, then? Was he in or out? What would happen if he really was out? His old world had crumpled into dust with Jesse's death. What would he do if he was alone, with no one to trust or confide in? He didn't know.

Xander wanted answers. He was going to go right up to her Buffy's house, pound on the door and get them. It was Saturday and she would be home. He got up from the bed and walked towards the upstairs staircase-

His skin felt like a match tip about to burst. Everything hurt. In the space of an instant his body suddenly felt like it would burst. Suddenly, he knew what the little naked Vietnamese girl running away from her napalmed village in that picture had felt. Xander shrieked and stumbled backwards. He confusedly surveyed his body. No obvious damage. What had happened? He detected a smell in the air. Burnt hair. There was no reason for his body to act that way. He tried moving to the staircase again, slowly this time. A stride or two later it happened again: Incredible pain for seemingly no reason. Why? The only thing between him and the stairs was a beam of light pouring in from a window-

Sunlight. The vampire that had attacked him last night. Its blood had mixed with his. Xander dashed into the bedroom's adjacent bathroom. No one was in the mirror.

&$#

He waited for nightfall before leaving the house. He needed answers. In happier times he would have gone to Giles for them but Xander would have to settle for the next best thing: his library. The night was quiet and still. The evening breeze gently rustled the trees was the only noise disturbing the night stillness of the night. The intrusive cacophony of the industrialized world- combustion engines, rude people who spoke too loud, SUV, bratty schoolchildren, roaring trains, airplanes flying overhead-all had retired for the day, giving the natural world a brief respite of peace. Xander felt horribly vulnurable. Who or what was lying in wait for him? A vampire? A demon? Or worse? What if Buffy had been spying on him and had seen what had happened when he walked into the sunlight and had resolved to lie in wait in the bushes and ambush him? So many possibilities. Xander ran to Sunnydale High, taking care to use back roads and alleys and constantly looking over his shoulder.

Xander quickly found a window some careless janitor had left open and snuck inside. He quickly made his way to the library entrance and opened the door into the dark interior. How strange it was to be here without his friends and Giles. Xander felt lost. How would he find the information he needed? Where to begin out of all the books here? He knew where Giles kept his secret stash.........of books, which was a start at least. He had that and a name. The thing that had attacked him called itself a "Plague Vampire." Walking to an obscure row of books sitting in a dark corner of the library, he selected one of the dusty old tomes of whichthe Watcher seemed to have anlimitless collectionof and began to read.

He was rewarded several hours later with a detailed entry on them. Xander sat up straight from his slouch and began reading intensely.

_Plague Vampires are a unique breed in that they are both similar and dissimilar to their regular vampire cousins. They too feed on blood and may only be killed by sunlight, decapitation or a stake to the heart. For some obscure reasons, Plague Vampires are bitterly detested by conventional vampires. Feuds between the two groups are common. The difference between the two breeds begins with the ways they reproduce themselves. Plague Vampires do not sire. Rather, a human becomes a Plague Vampire by coming into contact with their blood, especially if the blood is transmitted through an open wound._

Xander closed his eyes. So that was it. The damn thing had bled on him and he was a vampire now. What would he do know? What would Buffy say? What would Buffy do? Stake him? Why not? They'd hadn't parted on good terms and he was just another vampire now.

Xander somehow found the strength to keep reading.

_Humans who become plague vampires also differ from ones who have been sired by a conventional Vampire. A turned human's personality inverts to a "dark side," of their former selves whilst a plague Vampire victim changes little emotionally. However, the human body can only support the plague vampire "programming" as it were for only so long before it expires after about a month following the initial infection._

_Finally, unlike the siring process, the Plague Vampires's infection can be cured, for the process is technically a curse as opposed to a irreversable changing and possesion of a human host by a demon as with conventional Vampires. Indeed, there are several recorded instances of Plague Vampire hosts recovering their humanity within a month and thereby saving their lives, most notably in the medieval kingdom of Aragon in the 1400's. The accounts of the stories of these lucky few aren't clear but a consistent theme is that they found themselves cured after having "righted the wrongs in themselves and around them." The exact meaning of this explanation is not clear and continues to baffle scholars of the occult to this day._

_On a rather curious final note, a Plague Vampire victim's hand-to-hand fighting skill increases exponentially upon infection._

Voices came down the hall before Xander could digest this information. Two teenage girls and an Englishman. Shit! How could he have been so stupid as to spend so much time in the one place where the Gang met most often? He had to get out of there. There were some windows in the back. Xander jumped up from the round desk where he'd been sitting and ran to the back of the library. The window was well over eight feet off the ground. The voices were getting closer. Xander pulled himself onto the window still and began fiddling with the locks. Damnit, the last one wouldn't open. They were just outside the library door now. He worked harder at the last lock holding the window closed, so hard Xander's finger's were cut and bleeding. He escaped from the Library just as Giles, Willow and Buffy walked in.

&&$#

"I hate vampires. I am a vampire. A vampire with an expiration date." Xander said to himself, hoping that by saying it out loud he could understand what had befallen him better. It didn't work. He was seated in a park bench. He was alone in that little space of land. Nobody around for a pre-dawn jog. Xander sighed and closed his eyes. What was he going to do? Unless he "righted the wrongs in themselves and around them" (whatever that meant) he'd be dead in a month. What would he do? What could he do? Ask Buffy and the others for help? Xander laughed out of spite. What a rediculous suggestion. Buffy would just laugh at him if she didn't stake him on sight first. Did she know? Did she suspect he was no longer human?

He'd have to move out of his home. That's the first place the Gang would look if they ever wanted to find him. Xander definetly didn't want that. He'd have to find some empty apartment or hostel and claim for himself...but wait, such a living space would likely be filthy and far below Xander's standards. Yet he didn't have any money to get himself a real place to live. His brow furrowed in jealousy. Damnit! How did Angel get a frickin' mansion to himself anyway? And before he'd had that swanky apartment... Xander snapped his fingers in delight. That's it! With Angel shacking up in the mansion, he'd never notice a certain Xander Harris squatting in his previous place of residence. Xander congratulated himself on coming up with such a brilliant plan.

Yet finding a place to live was secondary to the real issue at hand, saving himself from the Plague Vampire curse. How would he fight? The book said it was possible and had been done before, but that didn't necesarrily indicate that the cure was within Xander's means. However difficult the task ahead of him was, there was no desire in him to surrender to fate and await the end of like a man facing a death sentence. Life hadn't always treated Xander well but he loved it nonetheless. He wasn't going to give it up.

&$#

Three days later...

"Four dollars and eighty-four cents is your change. Thank you for shopping with us, sir. I must say your purchases looks very good on you." Xander smiled modestly at this compliement and left the clothing store. The streets of downtown Sunnydale were practically deserted, as they often were- this was a Hellmouth town afterall. The newest addition to Xander's wardrobe had a practical motive behind it. He needed to change his look if he was going to stay out of the Slayer's clutches. The game was up if Buffy got even one look at so Xander look was going to be the ascetic opposite. As a non-undead human, he had usually worn dark or neutral colors. Right now Xander was wearing white- white trousers, white Italian leather shoes, white button-up oxford shirt and a white over with matching white fedora hat. Buffy would never be able to pick him out of a crowd now!

Alas, Xander had made little progress in uncovering the meaning of the Plague Vampire curse cure. With the Sunnydale High library to dangerous to enter, he had attempted to do research at the municipal library. Unfortunatly, Xander had exhausted its meager collection of books on the occult over the last two days in Angel's former apartment while waiting for the sun. None of the books he'd borrowed had any information whatsoever on Plague Vampires, resulting in two of his thirty days to live being wasted.

Xander had another problem. He was getting hungry.

He might of been a vampire but he wasn't a bad guy. Getting blood in classic vampire fashion was out of the question. Xander continued waalking down Sunnydale's dark streets until he found the place he had in mind. He walked around to the back of the building, jimmied a window and let himself into the butcher.

Xander found himself in what looked like an office. He needed to get down to the floor where the actual slaughtering was done. Wherever they stored the pig's blood would have to be nearby. Creeping through dark halls and down staircases, Xander's nose wrinkled at a fowl odor he'd only just noticed, indicating he'd just reached the slaughterhouse floor. Carcasses of slaughtered cows and hogs hung on meat hooks. That combined with the dim lighting, silence and frigid air of created the feeling of being in a tomb. Xander made his way across the floor, being very careful, to touch none of the animal bodies and opened a door at the opposite end. Jackpot. Inside the windowless concrete room room were a row of refridgerators against the wall. The area Xander was in seemed to be the building's storage room; stacks of wooden crates and cardboard boxes were everywhere. He walked across the room and opened one of the refriderators. It was everything he'd hoped for. Clear plastic containers of precious life fluid as far as the eye could see. He stuffed one into his pocket and closed the door. His plan to make a quick escape crumpled into dust when he saw Angel standing by the door.

Buffy's boyfriend regarded Xander with a look of satisfaction, like that of a hunter who'd cornered his prey.

"Xander? Is that you? What are you doing here?," the dashing vampire-with-a-soul queried.

"Deadboy, hi! What a small world. The what-am-I-doing-here part? Uh...did Buffy not tell you that I'm working part time now as a technician who inspects butcher shops's refridgerators in the middle of the night?" Xander answered nervously. Shit, the look in the other vampire's eyes told him he wasn't buying it. "What about you? What are you doing here? You know, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were up to no good," Xander fired back, hoping to throw the suspicion off him.

"Me? The owners and I have a deal where I pay them so much a month and they let me help myself to their supply of animal blood whenever I want...which, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were doing just now. Anyway, speaking of Buffy, she told me what happened between you and the gang. She also noticed that you've haven't been around the last few days and wants to ask you a few questions. She told me to keep an eye for you-"

"Really? Wow, it's nice to have friends that care, isn't it? I'll make sure to see her ASAP. Thanks," Xander interrupted, still hoping to talk his way past the brooding demon.

"-And that I was to bring you to her if I found you."

"Again, thanks Angel, I'll make sure to see her first thing tomorrow morning. Now if you don't mind, I have a calculus test tomorrow so..."

"Actually, she said it was very important that you be found soon and gave me permission to even wake her up in the middle of the night if that's when I dragged your ass to her front door. Are you going to do this my way or the hard way, Harris?," Angel told him, dropping the tone of polite civility he'd used up until now and taking a few steps toward him. He changed into his game face, apparently hoping to frighten Xander into coming along.

Only the Xander Harris he was dealing with had changed. A deep anger awoke within Xander that he had scarcely been aware of previously. It was difficult for Xander to describe what had caused it. The anger of being marginilized, the frustration of having his destiny decided by others...Xander wouldn't have it. No more. He wouldn't have of it.

"Angel...you and I have never been friends but we don't need to be enemies. Tell Buffy that you didn't see me tonight and we can can stay that way."

"So in other words, you choose the hard way," Angel observed before taking a swing at Xander.

Xander had always feared angel. Not only because he was a vampire but because he exerted an intimidating physical presence, which also accounted why his previous clashes with Angel had been limited to only words. But something in Xander had changed in him that he now physically stood against Angel. Something had given him confidence to stand up for himself and his freedoms in the face of this threat. No, he would not be hauled before Buffy to give an account of his actions like some criminal when he had done nothing wrong. No. The only person in charge of Xander was Xander now. He was suddenly filled with resentment at the people he felt had wronged him. Fuck Angel for trying to bully and intimidate him. Fuck Buffy for putting a bounty on him. Fuck Tony Harris for being a lousy father. Never again.

He blocked Angel's punch. And the next one. And the one after that. Deflecting and blunting Angel's attacks was easier than he'd thought it would be. Xander noticed that if he'd concentrated, he could predict where each blow from Angel's fists was going to land next, making it a simple matter where to place his hand to intercept the blow before it could reach its target. Xander decided to try something. He moved his left arm behind his back, leaving only his right to protect himself from Angel's attacks. It was just as easy.

Angel was dumbfounded. By now he should have been dragging Xander's unconscious ass up the street to Buffy's house by now. How was he effortlessly stopping dead attack he threw at him. How!? Xander had never shown any prodiciency at hand-to-hand combat before. Xander suddenly stepped aside and grabbed Angel's right arm. Using Angel's own momentum, he threw the vampire headfirst into a pile of nearby crates and box. It was a lucky thing for him that none of the shards of splintered wood pierced his clothing. One of the reasons why Vampires tended to favor leather. Angel had spent all his energy attacking Xander. Too exhausted to dig his way out of the mountain of boxes on top of him, he could only listen as Xander paused before walking out of the room.

"You leave me alone. Tell that that Buffy, Giles, Willow, Willy the Snitch; anybody else who wants to come looking for me. And Angel...," Xander paused. "I'm not a bad person." And he was gone.

&$#

"Shit! Bitch! Piss! Slut! Cunt! Whore! Mother-fucker !" Angel screamed as he hurled the lamp against the wall. Angel was furious about what had happened at the butcher shop. It wasn't so much that he had failed to bring Buffy, but the principle of the matter. Angel had gotten his ass kicked by Alexander LaVille Harris of all people, number one on the "Top Ten List of People Angel Fears the Least." What can explain this sudden outburst on the part of the usually calm and reserved Angel? The answer: Jealousy issues. Angel had recognized early in Xander a compettitor for Buffy's love, one who could be around her in the day when he could not. However, he had managed to keep his feelings in check due to the knowledge that he could easily make Xander his bitch if the two ever fought. Having been stripped of this assurance, the pulchritudinous Vampire had blown his stacks.

Angel managed to regain control of himself just before throwing the TV set from the mansion balcony. Calm down, he told himsellf. He closed his eyes and began the meditiation techniches.

_Think of a happy place..._

He was on a beach (at night) standing waist-deep in the water...the cool blue waves washing over him, taking away all the stress and anger..._whooooshhhh._

A relaxed Angel opened his eyes. Pitching a hissy fit and breaking things wasn't going to accomplish anything. He needed a plan if he was going to re-establish his supremacy over Xander and heal his wounded pride.

The facts: Xander had somehow become amazingly strong and if he guessed correctly, was after blood in that refridgerator. Angel knew the two events were connected, but how? Xander had a secret. It was up to him to find it out.

He would have to confront Xander again someday. Bringing him to Buffy had become secondary. Angel resolved not to tell her what had happened in the butcher shop basement. He didn't want her to find him and rob him of the chance to get his revenge. Besides, what would he tell her, that Xander had kicked his ass and walked out without a scratch? Not likely.

As much as Angel hated to admit it, it would probabley lose a rematch. The answer then was to become stronger, stronger than Xander. But how? Angel snapped his fingers. Willow. The young wiccan girl likely had a spell that greatly enhanced one's fighting strenght. He'd convince her to cast it on him and then kick Xander's ass with ease and thereby restoring his wounded dignity. A Brilliant Plan!

This called for a celebration. Angel dug out one of his many CD's and put it into the player. He selected his favorite song and fast-forwardedto the best part. So happy was he that he began singing along to the lyrics he knew so well as tears of joy streamed down his face.

_I see skies of blue and clouds of white_

_The bright blessed day, the dark sacred night_

_And I think to myself, what a wonderful world..._


	3. No More Lies

A hysterical teenage girl fled down an alley, followed closely by her gaunt man pursuing her. The vampire grinned it closed the distance between them. He'd been hunting all night for a meal and he was . The girl turned a corner only to suddenly come to a stop. Dead end. The vampire began walking towards her, knowing that his prey was trapped. What a pretty young thing she was. A fine meal she'd make. How inviting the nubile flesh of her neck looked. The vampire took a step closer. She backed away, but with a wall meant no escape.

"Wow, finding a Vampire in a dark alleyway at night. Who'd a thunk?"

The Vampire turned away from his meal-to-be to face the owner of the voice and beheld a mysterious figure standing there before him. He was slouched casually against the wall as though waiting for a bus, casually indifferent to the going-ons in the alley up until now. His white suit reflected the pale moonlight, giving his outline an outline both natural and seemingly outer worldly. A white fedora hat tilted at an angle obscured his features to the Vampire and his captive.

"Verily, I say unto you: let her go or you're in for a whuppin'. Actually, scratch that. I'll be serving you a dinner portion of whoopass followed by the 'stake stab to the heart' house special no matter what you do."

The Vampire's brow furrowed at this challenge. The girl took advantage of his distraction and tore off out of the alleyway. The Vampire focused on the mysterious man in white. The stranger came closer and the Vampire snarled upon recognizing the one standing before him.

"Xander Harris...words's gotten out," The Vampire said, recognizing the stranger. "We know about you. The Mayor told us who you were and what you've become. It won't be long before every single Vampire in Sunnydale's looking to get a piece of you. Literally. Think about it. Do you think even the Slayer could survive that long against such a force?"

"Me and Buffy don't speak much these days so you'd have to ask her."

"Ah yes, the Slayer to whom you've given so much and have nothing to show for. How's that Bible quote go? 'For what profit is it to a man if he gains the world yet loses his own soul?' See, only it's like the opposite for you, Xander: You have a 'soul' in the terms of your identity and independence but not much else. But enough talk, have at you," the Vampire declared as it threw a punch at Xander. The white-clad teen was expecting this however and ducked under the blow. The Vampire's momentum carried him past Xander. The nocturnal creature turned around just in time to receive a spinning kick across the face and before it could recover Xander pulled out a stake and jabbed it into the Vampire's heart, dusting it.

Xander sighed, pausing to let the wave of adrenaline wash over him. He looked about him. He was standing in a dark alley, alone, after saving a girl from a vampire. Xander pocketed the stake and began walking. It would be dawn soon and he needed to get back to...well, not home- the apartment he had requisitioned from Angel. His mood turned reflective. His saving the girl was a selfless, noble act. And what did he have to show for it? Nothing, not so much as even a 'thank you.' If there was a common theme in his life, that would be it. It's not like he wanted a citation in the newspaper and a medal. What he wanted was for someone to aknowledge his work and appreciate him. Was that really so much to ask? Apparently yes if you're unlucky enough to be one Xander Harris.

He reached the building that contained Angel's former apartment. Xander took out his housekeys and let himself in. He walked over and collapsed on the very same bed where Angel had once lost his soul. Xander stared at the ceiling, wondering what was going to happen to him. He hadn't made any progress in lifting the Plague Vampire curse, or even finding out how. Oh well, he'd go searching again tomorrow night. He had to. The only alternative was sitting here in his stolen apartment and wait for the month's end like a man on death row. He didn't want that. Xander wanted to live.

He'd never been appreciated by Buffy and his friends, and he hadn't gotten any tonight. The circumstances had changed, but the end result hadn't. Why? Maybe he just wasn't a likeable person.

&!

Ding-dong!

Willow opened her front door to reveal standing there none other than the dashingly handsome Vampire Angel.

"Oh, hi Angel! Sorry if I was late answering the door. I didn't hear it at first 'cause I'm watching Throne of Blood on DVD," the red-haired Wiccan greeted.

"Kurosawa, huh? Is that the one with the the general, the princess and and the two peasants," queried the brooding ensouled bloodsucker.

"No, you're thinking of The Hidden Fortress. Anyway, what can I do for you, Angel?"

"Yeahhhh...As I understand it, you have a thing for dabbling in magic spells that can give people incredible powers, right?"

"Well, it's not quite as simple as you put it but it but basically yes. Why do you ask?"

"Listen, Willow. Something's come up. I need your help."

"Oh, come in," Willow said, allowing the vampire to enter her home and closing the door behind him. "So what's going on?"

"Oh, right. Um, listen there's this, uh, demon in town and I was wondering if you would be able to cast a spell that would enhance my fighting abilities by about, oh, a thousand times so I can defeat it."

"Gee Angel, Magic isn't something that can be used so quickly. Have you tried getting Buffy to help you out?"

"NO! NO BUFFY," Angel shrieked, causing Willow to step back in surprise, her eyes wide in fright. Such an outburst from the usually laconic Angel was unheard of. " I mean, no, I can't tell Buffy about this demon because...because...Giles looked it up and, uh...found an, an...ancient prophecy, yeah, that it would be, uh, instant doom for the Slayer if she ever fought this demon, so we can't tell Buffy about this, okay Willow? it has to be our secret," Angel told her.

"Oh...ok, fair enough. Let's go into the basement and I'll see if I can help you out. Come in," the demure redhead said, giving the soft-spoken Vampire permission to enter her living quarters. Angel's hands tightened into fists as he followed Willow down the stairs. The real reason he couldn't involve the Slayer, of course, was that he couldn't risk her interfering in this matter before he could get his revenge on Xander for what happened at the butcher shop. Angel ground his teeth together and almost punched a hole in the Rosenberg's wall. Goddamn that shithead Xander! Now he was making him keep secrets from Buffy? Unacceptable! As mad as he was, Angel was also intrigued. The aestthetically-pleasing Vampire stroked his chin thoughtfully. Xander had seemed...different in the butcher shop...and it wasn't the wardrobe change he was thinking of, which even Angel, in spite of his rage, couldn't help but admire. For starters, how had Xander become so powerful? He'd blocked his blows with ease then tossed him into that pile of boxes like it was the easiest thing in the world. Not only that, but Xander hadn't smelled right. His scent was...different from a human's. Hmm...newfound strength, strange scent...Xander was definetly hiding something, and he was going to find it out, whatever it was. How strange- just a few weeks ago, Xander had gone from being the plainest and least interesting member of Buffy's team to the most mysterious. Just one of those ironies life loves throwing at you, Angel silently philosophized.

Lost in thought, the redemption-seeking nosferatu hadn't noticed he'd reached Willow's basement. He snapped out of his internal musings and glanced about him. The room was shrouded in darkness, the only illumination provided by a set of candles perched on a human skull. Willow was seated, poring over an ancient-looking spellbook.

"Ah-ha," she cried out in satisfaction as Angel approached. "Listen to this: The Hercules incantation greatly enhances a person's physical strength, fighting skills and knowledge of the martial arts."

"Great! Sounds like just what I need to, uh, beat that monster!"

"Wait- Wasn't it a demon you were fighting?"

"Monster, demon, same difference. Come on, hurry up would you? This is taking all day!"

It took Willow only a few minutes to prepare the spell ingrediants and draw the chalk pentagram Angel was now sitting cross-legged in. Willow began the spell. The young Wiccan began chanting in dead languages, beseeching various pagan gods and goddesses to lend their power. A black wind began to blow in the basement, snuffing out the candles. The pentagram glowed red and Angel was overcome with a strange presence. When it passed, the candles re-ignited, signifying the spell's conclusion.

It was incredible. Angel stood to his feet. The power raging through his body was unlike anything he'd ever experienced. Better than shooting up the best heroin ever while getting a blowjob from a supermodel. Yesss...the power to give Xander the beatdown he deserved was his.

"Muhahahahahaha," Angel cackled gleefully. "Xander's going down like a two-dollar hooker on a friday night with the wino convention in town. Verily I shall teach that slut the meaning of humility ha-a!"

"Wait, what was that about Xander?" Willow asked.

Oh shit! He couldn't risk Willow finding out about his plan to curb-stomp Xander's ass no more than he could Buffy.

"No, see, the name of the demon I'm going to fight is named Z'andurr. "It's just a coincedince that their names sound alike," the angst-prone blood afficionado explained matter-of-factly.

"Oh, ok."

&!

Another day, another night for Xander. He put on his white fedora hat and left Angel's former apartment. It had been two whole weeks since he'd contracted the Plague Vampire Curse and still hadn't the slightest idea how to get rid of it and save himself. The teen pushed open the doors of the apartment complex and stepped into the still night. He didn't have any plans for this evening aside from saving people from vampires or worse. It was like he was doing his own version of Buffy's patrols, only he was on the other side of town and made extra certain to stay away from areas he knew the Slayer kept watch over. Xander began walking.

A thought struck him: If plague Vampires are only created when their blood mixes with a human, only exist for one month and are hated by other vamps, how did the species avoid extinction? Xander guessed that they placed a high priority on infecting other humans, much more than ordinary vampires. That or whatever god responsible for their creation hadn't put much thought in their design.

Ten minutes after he left the apartment, Xander found himself near a construction site. The frame of what was going to be an office building towered into the air like a Colossus. The site workers, having gone home for the day had left their equipment and materials strewn about the site. Xander ducked under the yellow caution tape and began to walk around the site. He'd saved a little boy from a slimy thing with tentacles here a few days ago. Xander looked around the site, imagining what it must be like during the day, when it hummed with industry and progress. Maybe he'd get a job in construction if he ever got rid of the curse and graduated from high school.

If.

Graduating...not much hope of that now. He'd lost count of how many classes he'd missed.

Xander toyed with the thought of asking Giles for help in lifting the curse. Could the Watcher keep a secret? Xander shook his head, dismissing the idea. Probabley not. There was no doubt in his mind that Giles would betray him to Buffy at the earliest oppurtunity. He recalled how the Watcher had causally iinformed how his presence hindered their "productivity." Xander's brows furrowed at the memory. Giles could take his productivity and shove it up his pasty-white British ass.

Xander was about to leave the construction site when a white stretch limozine pulled up alongside the curb. One of the passenger doors opened and out stepped Mayor Wilkens III with an extremely beautful woman on either arm. His face lit up in a grand smile on seeing Xander.

"Mr. Harris! Enjoying the nightlife these days?"

"Wilkens...," Xander growled. What did he want?

"Xander, you know the expression 'no good deed goes unpunished'? I find it to be a particularly apt metaphor for describing you. You went out of your way to aid the Slayer and her friends and in doing so incurred the wrath of none other than myself."

"What?"

"Yes, that's right. It was I who sent that Plague Vampire after you," said the Mayor nonchalantly, as though he were observing that the sky is blue or standing in the rain makes you wet. "Although I must confess that the attack was supposed to have left you slightly less than alive...then again, it looks like my plan succeeded, just not as I intended."

"Are you gonna get to the point anytime soon?" Xander snapped.

"Xander, I must confess that I've always wanted to be a father even though I never had children. I'm going to do you a favor and tell you that things are going to be changing here in Sunnydale, and when they do, I want someone to share it with. So I say unto you Xander: Join me at my side and after my Ascension we shall rule this town together."

"Sorry but I haven't had much luck with father figures in the past and I don't think I'd fare much better with an evil one...well, an openly evil one . Now, piss off." The Mayor's face betrayed dissapointment for a brief moment before returning to jovialness.

"My, isn't that unfortunate. You know what the problem is with young people these days? No respect for their elders, that's what. Your words wound me, Xander, they truly do. However, there's something that makes me feel better and do what that is? The thirty-or-so vampires who were waiting to kill you if you refused. Kick his ass, boys!" The mayor and his two whores got back in the limo and sped off into the night. Xander didn't notice this. His attention was focused on the group of Vampires closing in around him.

They had appeared so suddenly, out of the shadows and dark parts of the construction site. A sea of leering faces closed in, surrounding him. They were all men, about thirty in number. They all wore their game faces and they all wanted him dead.

Xander knew he had to take the initiative. If he didn't, the Vampires would overwhelm him and he was dead. Before the ring around him closed completeley the teen stepped up took a swing at the nearest Vamp, knocking him to the ground. Xander quickly spun around before one of them could attack his exposed back and used his momentum to do a spin kick that hit three Vampires in the face, knocking them back. Six Vampires were one his left, Eight to his right and God only knew how many behind him. Xander had to keep moving. He lashed out with three right hooks, blocked two punches and was about to attempt a sweep kick to give him some more breathing room when one of them kicked Xander in the small of his back, propelling him forward and almost making the teen lose his balance. He was so foccused on not following over that he failed to block a punch to his face. Then two Vampires grabbed his arm and held them behind him. Then got in a shot to Xander's stomach and backhanded him before he managed to rear up and kick his frontal attackers away and free himself.

One on one, Xander was more than a match for any of the vampires. Against a whole mob of them, he was fighting for life. He began attacking in all direction- flailing out with a few punches, chops and kicks in one direction before dealing with Vampires in a another direction. It worked reasonable well until a Vampire Xander hadn't seen picked up a plank of wood and broke it over his head.

This time he did fall down. How he remained conscious he didn't know. Lying on his back, the Vampire who'd cracked him loomed in his view brandishing the brocken piece of wood, the shard's dull brown points looming large in his vision. The Vampire raised it above, intending to plunge into Xander's heart-

He rolled over just in time and the broken plank plunged into the rough soil of the site instead of his flesh. Xander needed a change of plans. They were wearing him out. He needed to end this fight before they ended him. Out of his pocket he withdrew his stake. Things were about to get fatal.

Again Xander launched himself into the fray. Again and again he stabbed out with the stake, sometimes reaching an undead heart and dusting a vampire, sometimes not. As hard as he tried, the Vampires would get a shot in. Xander could feel himself slowing down. His muscles ached. He began counting his the Vampires exploding into dust...seven...eight...nine...

Xander whirled around expecting to confront another ten or twelve vampires behind him, but was suprised to see only three. They exchanged glances and before he knew it, the survivors decided the fight was lost and fled. Xander had won.

He sank to his knees, panting. Everything hurt. He was glad he no longer had a reflection- his face must have been a brutal sight with all its cuts and bruises. He looked down. The front of his white suit was covered red stain turning brown. His blood- normal Vampires didn't bleed.

Xander spat out a broken tooth and stood up. All he wanted to do was go home and sleep for about a month. Granted, he would be dead from the Plague Vampire curse by then, but that didn't seem like such a bad thing if it meant relief from the pain.

He had limped to within a few blocks of Angel's former apartment when he heard a familiar voice.  
"Xander..."

The teen glanced about him. There was no there. Where had the voice come from. Then he looked up.

Standing there on the roof of an eight-Storey apartment building was a mysterious figure in a long dark coat looking down on him. Silhouetted against the full moon, Xander couldn't see who it was. Before he could ask, the figure jumped down all eight Storeys and landed on his feet with a catlike grace. The stranger turned towards Xander and walked into the moonlight, allowing the teen to see his face.

It was Angel.

"Xander," the reserved Hibernian Vampyre greeted. His tone was full of false friendlyness and civility. He was smiling, as though he'd at last found something he'd been looking for a long time. "Surprised to see me? Thought I'd still be unconscious in that pile of boxes where you left me? Sorry, but it takes more than that to put me away."

"What do you want, Deadboy?" Angel chuckled.

"Come on, Xander. I've always known you're not genius material, but even you should be able to figure it out. We Vampires are like elephants- we don't forgive or forget. Did you really think I would just forget about what happened at the butcher shop? Did you really think I'd just let it slide?"

"So it's revenge you want? Is this Angel or Angelus I'm talking to?"

"Oh, I'm all Angel. But let me tell you something, Xander Harris, having a soul doesn't mean you can't hate what someone did to you."

"Come on, Angel, can't we let bygones be bygones? I had a bad day, alright? I don't wanna fight you."

"Bad day, eh? It's about to get worst." With that Angel launched began his attack. Everything was different. Blows that Xander had onced dodged and blocked with were almost impossibly fast. Angel feinted, throwing slower-than-normal punch. When Xander held up his arms to block it, Angel grabbed them, robbing Xander of his defenses. Angel swung his head back and CRACKK headbutted Xander once, then twice. The teen tried to ignore the pain and fought back. He punched Angel in the stomach and quickly crouched and tried to trip the other Vampire with a sweeping kick. Angel jumped over it and kicked him in the face. Angel then succeeded in punching Xander twice but was blocked on his third attempt. Xander ducked under Angel's next hit and, seeing an opening, jumped off of a nearby wall and kicked Angel across his face. The Vampire, now angered, wore his game face. Angel dodged Xander's next punch, grabbed Xander's outstretched hand and in one swift move, turned around so that the underside of his arm was facing upwards and pulled down on it. The sound of cracking bones split the air when Xander's arm bent the wrong way on Angel's shoulder. He screamed in pain.

Xander crumpled to the ground, holding his wounded limb. Angel towered over him, triumphant.

"What's the matter, Harris, huh? Not gonna crack one of your stupid jokes?" Angel taunted. He kicked at Xander on the floor. He kicked again. And again. Then he grabbed Xander and put him in a headlock. "Why do you fight, Xander? You have no friends! Nobody likes you! Your life is a failure! Give up! He released the boy and watched him again fall to the floor clutching his broken arm. He hated everything about Xander Harris right now, how pathetic he was. Angel unbuckled his belt and held the leather strap in his hands and loomed over the oblivious Xander. Than Angel raised his hand and brought it down on Xander's prone form. Whoosh-Crack! Xander cried out in pain. Angel smiled. Again he raised the belt and brought in down, harder this time. Angel lost count of the times he lashed the defeated Xander. How he loved the sound the leather made when it hit and the resultant cries of anguish from Xander. Angel became aware of his erection straining against the confines of his tight leather pants. It wasn't that Angel was gay or anything (not that there's anything wrong with that)- it was just that beating the hell out of someone turned him on like nothing else.

He needed release. And so he left- but not before leaving Xander a parting gift. Angel hunched over him, held one nostril shut with his right index finger and blew through his nose as hard as he could.

&!

For the second time that evening there was the sickening sound of of bone cracking. Xander gritted his teeth and pushed harder. More pain and a POP! sound as the bones set back into position. For some reason, whether it was because the Plague Vampire Curse had healing powers associated with it or the wound wasn't as bad as he feared, Xander's arm was already feeling better only a few hours after Angel broke it.

Xander's mood turned reflective as he lay back in Angel's former bed. So Deadboy wanted him to give up? Surrender and just meekly accept his fate? That's something the old Xander would have done. He wasn't the same person. He be damned if he did something just because Angel told him to. Not only was he not going to give in, he was going to show him that Xander Harris was still around. He'd told Angel that they didn't need to be enemies- too late for the now. That Rubicon had been crossed. If Angel wanted a war, that's what he'd get. He looked around the little apartment. There was tons of Angel's stuff that he'd never gotten around to moving to his mansion. Xander could start by eBaying it. Not only would it piss off Angel but he'd make some money too. The teen began making plans. He'd need some wood...some lighter fluid...

&!

Angel was as pleased as punch. The party was a smashing success. One of the waitresses he'd hired for the occasion offered him a martini, when he accepted. He was well-dressed in a burgundy-colored silk bathrobe with blue-and-white pyjamas underneath. He watched as the guests talked and danced to the booming beat of MC Hammer's classic Can't Touch This. Angel mentally went over the guestlist: Oz, Cordelia, Giles, Principal Snyder, Jonathan, Joyce, Willy the Snitch, Willow, Ethan Rayne, Larry, Jack O'Toole, and of course, Buffy. Ostensibly, they thought Angel was throwing a housewarming party for his mansion. Angel smirked. Little did they know that the real reason he was throwing this bash was to celebrate his beatdown of Xander not even two days ago.

"I say, Angel, this is wonderful get-together you've thrown," congradulated a rather drunken Giles.

"Why thank you Giles, I appreciate the compliment. By the way, would you say that I'd forgotten anybody from the guest list?" He asked the tipsy Watcher.

"Why no. Everybody who matters seems to be here." Angel chuckled to himself as Giles went of to hit on Joyce Summers. Just as he figured.

Just then, a hush fell over the room as Willow dashed into the room. Angel could see that something was wrong from the Wiccan's panicky expression.

"Angel, come quick! There's something you should see!"

"Where?"

"It's on lawn, just by the rose garden." Angel quickly strode to the mansion balcony and looked out on the mansion grounds. He looked about, trying to see what Willow was referring to. And then he saw it.

A eight-foot tall wooden cross had been planted set in the ground and set ablaze. He could hear the fire crackling even from the balcony. Angel was emotionally numb as he absorbed what had happened. The party guests crowded around him, wondering how he would react to this bizarre event. Without warning he crumpled the martini glass in his hand, ignoring the glass shards in his hand and bellowed a single cry of fury.

"XAAAANDEEERRRRRR!"


End file.
